


Hey Jealous Lover Ch.4 of 16

by kinfic2



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Jealous Brian, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-22
Updated: 2014-02-22
Packaged: 2018-01-13 08:09:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1218916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinfic2/pseuds/kinfic2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If I were to admit my weakness for you, would you love me less?<br/>Takes place after Ep.208 and before Ep.217</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hey Jealous Lover Ch.4 of 16

**Between good and evil lies the unholy ground of indecision, tethered by fear and fed by temptation.**  
  
Justin’s POV:  
  
        I’m royally fucked and not in a positive, life-affirming way. I know Brian. I’ve seen that look on his face more than once when I dance at Babylon, play pool at Woody’s or work at the diner. Christ! He's thrown it in Emmett’s direction once or twice, but I can’t quite figure out where it’s coming from or what it means.  
  
       _“Take that look off your face, my hard bitten friend._ _I can see right through your smile_ _. But I didn’t dig deep. I did not want to know.”  ©Weber/Black_  
  
        The loft is eerily quiet until his shower floods the space with a waterfall of sound. Unable to look Adam in the eye, I busy myself with the mindless task of cleaning our mess, welcoming the distraction to delay the inevitable. He breaks the awkward silence by clearing his throat and resting a hand on my arm. His long fingers trigger a multitude of emotions. Desire, guilt, fear, fascination are all locked in a fierce battle for supremacy in my mind.  
  
       “Is he always like that?” His whisper sweeps through the loft like a shout.  
  
       “Like what?” With so many adjectives on the tip of my tongue—narcissistic? childish? annoying? aggravating? infuriating?—it’s impossible to find one that encompasses all things Brian. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him raise his shoulders as he searches for words, for a definition. I’m curious because I don't have any.  
  
        With my lower lip between my teeth, I work up the courage to meet his gaze. The compassion takes my breath away. But the accompanying sympathy is irritating.  
  
       “Is he always so _jealous?”_  
  
        I fight not to laugh but can’t stop strangled chuckles and snickers from escaping. His confusion only increases my hilarity. Taking a deep breath, I know that I owe him an explanation for my bizarre behavior.  
  
       “I’m sorry. It’s just that....” I sound like a total idiot and once again, I’m wracked with incredulous giggles at his question.  
  
        He’s annoyed by my display. With a slight tinge of impatience, he asks, “Care to let me in on the joke?”  
  
        Now it’s _my_ turn to look at him with sympathy. He doesn’t know, doesn’t have a clue. I reach out to touch his cheek, my fingertips gliding over skin like velvet. I can’t help but wonder if the rest of his body feels so sensuous and welcoming. Emboldened by the absurdity of the moment, I brush my lips against his, but before my mock courage has a chance to overtake reason, I break the spell.  
  
       “Adam, Brian doesn’t do jealous,” I strangle out in a hoarse voice. “The word isn’t even in his vocabulary.” I hate myself for sounding so emotionally needy.  
  
        His concentration as he processes the information is impossible to miss, the furrowed brow and grim lips dead give aways.  When I see a faint glimmer of comprehension, thoughts I’ve tried to ignore flare to life again. How often have I told myself that loving Brian was all the happiness I needed? How often did I try to convince myself that it outweighed the hurt and rejection thrown at me too many times?  
  
_“What have I got to do to make you love me? What have I got do to make you care?”_ _©E.John/B.Taupin_  
  
        His soft palms grasp my face like a sought after treasure. The unfamiliar tenderness drills through to the core of my doubts, and I can’t help but wonder how he knows. He’s too close, his breath a summer breeze on my flesh. Please don't say what I think you're going to say. He does.  
  
       _“_ He _should_ do jealous and the word s _hould_ be in his vocabulary—if he wants to keep you. _”_ His voice is passionate, the blue of his eyes blinding. “If he doesn’t, someone will come along, snatch you up, and treat you the way you deserve to be treated.”  
  
        Shit! I want to contradict his holier-than-thou statement, but I can’t, because there have been times I’ve wondered the same thing.   
  
        I plaster a wry grin on my face, frightened by the ache his understanding has sparked inside me.   
  
                               _“I keep on falling in and out of love with you_ _. How do you give me so much pleasure and cause me so much pain?_  
                                _Just when I think I’ve taken more than would a fool, _ _ I start fallin back in love with you.”  _ _ ©A.Keyes _

 

continued here: <http://archiveofourown.org/works/1231516>


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